


Sunburn

by mmmelmoth



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Clint Barton, Clintasha bickering, F/M, Give me feedback?, I Don't Even Know, I really don't know what I think about this, Power Couple, Seduction, Summer Vibes, Top Natasha Romanov, What Happened in Budapest, and kisses, but in the end they're friends so it's all good, from enemies to besties, how Black Widow came to work for SHIELD, is it weird? maybe, it's a little cheesy, man i love these two, mostly it's just a lot of bickering, or a version of it, power duo, shameless flirting, smooth flirts, that's what the title should be, this is what happened in Budapest, yet here it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 21:03:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15179345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmmelmoth/pseuds/mmmelmoth
Summary: Both have a mission, both are intrigued by the other. But nothing works out as expected and Clint's face is definitely in need of some sunscreen. Further explanations? No.





	Sunburn

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this around one year ago, I got the idea while hiking and feeling like I was dying from the heat. I guess this counts as fluff? If it's just weird, don't blame me. Blame the summer sun on Crete.

The gala was everything S.H.I.E.L.D. had promised and more. There was not only one but _three_ chocolate fountains, and all sorts of politically relevant people mingling together. As summer was surprisingly warm in Budapest, the women's dresses were lighter, shorter and incredibly expensive looking.

With a glass of champagne in my hand I scanned the room to have my eyes fall on a curvy yet athletic young woman in black. I recognized her face at once, even across the entire hall. "I've made visual contact with the target." I muttered, receiving the answer "Can you get to her?" right away through my earpiece. "Sure." In one gulp, I downed the high-end champagne and started moving the same moment that she did. We met in the middle.

"You've been staring at me. Are you going to ask me to dance?" Her voice was husky - the seductive kind - and she carried herself like a queen. It didn't seem to bother her that my eyes glided over her fancily done red curls, her knee-long lace dress, on the contrary she even appeared to enjoy it.

"Yes. I am." I look back up in her insanely turquoise eyes and she holds out her delicate hand for me to kiss. Which I do. "Alina Romova. Pleasure meeting you." She lied, batting her dark eyelashes. I wouldn't have noticed the untruth if I hadn't studied her record over and over again. But I played along. "Harrison Faraday. Please, the pleasure is entirely mine." And I took her hand into mine, pulled her a little closer and put my fingers on her back. _Alina_ , as she called herself that day, was an extraordinary dancer. Right away both us noticed that her skill was above mine by far, and when the music changed into a quick waltz she subtly took control and led me along. I should've been paying better attention in my dancing lessons because soon everything around me became a blur due to the waltz's speed.

Once the song had ended she let go of me and gallantly put some distance between us.

I hurried to catch my breath. "You're dazzling. I mean, this was -" "It's nothing." When she brushed some loose strands of hair behind her ears, there was a curious hint to her glance. "Barton, stop fussing around! Can you isolate her?" My earpiece rang out and I flinched.

"Do you want a drink?" I offered, giving her my best smooth grin. Alina turned to the nearest table, picked up the glass that was standing on it and tossed back all of the clear fluid in one motion. I didn't remark that _This could've been the President's vodka tonic_ because I wasn't supposed to be funny that day, so I just kept my eyes on her as she advanced: "How about we just get out of here instead?" On the outside I nodded coolly, while my heart was beating a bit too fast in real life. _Is this how it always works with the rich and powerful? Dance, beverages and then just -_ _Do they value anything?_

She walked away confidently and I followed like a dog on a leash, navigating through meaningful people having just another fancy dinner to live out their capitalist fantasies. "Barton, keep in mind that she could be playing with you. She is one of the deadliest people on our radar." "I've got this, Coulson." I murmured, keeping up with Alina as if in trance. _No, not Alina. The Black Widow. Spy, assassin, murderer. Not just another pretty face at this gala._

We went up some stairs and Coulson cleared his throat at the other end of the line. "Clint, I see everything you see thanks to your video transmission glasses. It would be ... more polite if you kept your eyes to yourself." "Sorry." "This is why you're better as a sniper than in the field." "Shut up." A mere minute later, I'd been led to a series of hotel rooms directly above the dancing hall. To spend one night here probably equaled my paycheck of a month.

"Here we are." Stopping in front of number 120, Alina slipped a key out of her dresses' pocket to unlock the door.

I forgot to say _"After you"_ and as soon as I'd gone in, she pushed me onto the canopy bed. "We're doing this right n-? Oh. Okay." Within seconds, she'd crawled on top of me with the grace of a cat, her lips tracing my neck. _Get your shit together, Barton._ Her lips and teeth explored my ear too, the side of my face, anywhere but my lips. I heard a soft crunch. _Oh no, she couldn't have._ "Barton? I've lost visuals, I repeat, I lost visual contact." Coulson's worried voice ripped the moment, maybe quietly enough.

Alina receded. "Is someone whispering in your ear?" Her eyes blazed and I felt sweat creeping up my collar. "I think you're getting paranoid, love." I gave back in a steady voice and then rolled her around to gently kiss her neck from above.

Looking suddenly indifferent, she stared at the frescoed ceiling as she answered: "Oh, I'm definitely paranoid. But I know your kind."

"My kind? What's that supposed to-" Before I could finish, she flipped me over her head in a very unromantic fashion, crashing me into a bedpost. "Agents. Walking in here like I am some kind of schoolgirl to be seduced? Keep sending your prettiest straight-A-students, you're no match!" She ripped out my earpiece and crushed it under the heel of her pumps. Then she swept up her skirt and pulled out a gun from a thigh-holster to point it at my head. "I'm sorry, handsome. You're a hostage now." And the fire in her eyes blazed more intensely than ever before.

 

* * *

 

I was pulled up stairs until I was surprised there were still some left, the building hadn't seemed that tall. "Your name isn't Harrison Faraday. I knew from the first second. You're a pathetic liar." She remarked as she dragged me along, my hands tied with tie wrap she'd whipped out of her shoes. "If it makes you happy, you're a great liar. I totally would've fallen for it if I hadn't known better." I grinned at her.

"You lie better when you tell part-truths. But it's sweet you actually thought you had the upper hand." She pushed me out of a heavy door and I realized with a start that we were out in the open. To be more specific, on a pebbly path winding itself up towards a mountain. "This is a bad joke." "You definitely brought the wrong shoes."

She continued pushing me upwards and I did my best to resist after my means possible, which meant slowing us down with light conversation. "So you know my name is a fake. Don't you want to know the real name behind this gorgeous face?" "It's Clint Barton, you're a sharpshooter. One of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s newer assets, they thought we wouldn't know your face yet. They were wrong." "Then you also know how much I'm valued at S.H.I.E.L.D.. You picked me out well, but you'll understand how much they'd hate to lose a young, attractive, both physically and mentally fit defender of justice."

"You're being overdramatic. What's your point?" "S.H.I.E.L.D. will freaking dismantle you - " In which case I didn't say freaking but something else beginning with the letter f, "- if you touch one hair on my head." I pulled her to a stop and glared at her with my face dangerously close to hers.

"Do you even know who we are?" She interjected in a bored voice. "The KGB." I shot back and continued: "Now imagine that in the little blackmail video you're going to film on top of this mountain because you're the overdramatic ones, or maybe because you think this is harder to locate as a lot of mountain sceneries look alike, I happen to have reddened cheeks. My superior officers would come whipping down on you like a thunderstorm."

"Why would your cheeks be reddened, am I making you blush?" Her smile would be gorgeous if it wasn't fake. "Not yet. See." I gestured up at the burning afternoon sun, "If I get a sunburn, they'll think you hit me." "That's what happens to hostages." "Do you really want to risk that?" I began a staring competition with her, regretting it right the next moment. Her beautiful eyes were full of loathing. Needless to say that I lost the staring competition. But I added: "There's sunscreen in my pocket that could save you a lot of trouble." She slid her hand into my pocket just for the sake of doing so and retrieved the little bottle. "Now what do I get out of it?" "Like I said. Less trouble. And I won't tell the others that your second name is Alena. Alaina? Aliana?" I took three wild guesses but her face betrayed no emotion. _At least I tried_. Without moving a facial muscle, she let some of the sun lotion into her hands. Then she smacked the first one on my face. "You like this?"

Having it rubbed all over the right side of my face in violent motion, I couldn't help but cough. "Definitely. It's almost erotic." Her hands slid over the other half too, an almost undetectable bit gentler this time, tracing the stubble that I'd grown and groomed for only this day. "Would you do the neck, too?" I grinned smoothly and she flipped me onto the hard stone ground. "Still think I'm - what was it? - dazzling? Now get up before I decide you're not valuable enough as a hostage."

I reply to the hatred on her face with an honest grin, "I definitely do. More so." But I do get up. "You must absolutely love your job. Do you always get to seduce gentlemen and put lotion over their faces?" "I'm going to suffocate you." "So if you don't like your job, why do you do it? If you had a choice, would you quit?" "I knew I should've gagged you."

"What if I _gave_ you a choice?"

 

* * *

 

What the famous Black Widow didn't know was that Phil Coulson, my thunderstorm of a superior officer was on the way to scout the territory with a hovercraft after my last transmission - before she'd crushed the video camera with her teeth and the earpiece with her heel. That her colleagues for the hostage video would be outnumbered and outgunned and that even though she could've handled the situation on her own with her diverse and dangerous skill set, she would end up leaving with me out of her own free will.

And that we would become the most amazing duo in the history of S.H.I.E.L.D.


End file.
